


Ascension

by thesevioletdelights



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, Competent Slut Hux, Engineer Hux, Glove Kink, Hux knows how to please his Supreme Leader, Kylo is a Dirty Boy, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Scent Kink, Scents & Smells, Sex in a TIE Cockpit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 03:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18513373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesevioletdelights/pseuds/thesevioletdelights
Summary: Hux swallows. They both know the answer, it’s fairly evident with him already sitting on Ren’s lap. Of course, Ren wants him to say it out loud, wants Hux to debase himself even further and Hux hates him for it.“I could—“ He clears his throat.“Yes?”“I could... ride you. Supreme Leader.”Ren grins, toothy, infuriating. “If that is what you want.”*********Inspired by the first official still of dirty!Kylo in TROS, and the teaser trailer. Disclaimer: at this point we have no idea about what exactly is transpiring with Kylo and the Silencer or whether he is chasing Rey down by himself, so this is, as always, just a fun little take.





	Ascension

The Silencer comes bursting out of hyperspace dangerously close to the fleet, swooping down upon the Finalizer with its thrusters on full power. The bridge is thrown into immediate commotion, the officers on duty huddling around monitors to check the readings. 

Standing on the main command bridge, Hux focuses his attention on his crew, pleased to see that the young lieutenant in charge of the Supreme Leader's personal docking bay has kept a level head. Only her lips thinning into a bloodless line betray her anxiousness as her fingers fly over the controls, opening the dock immediately and instructing the TIEs on patrol to escort the Silencer to Hangar Bay 3.

Hux glances at the stats that have began to run as soon as Ren was within range. Almost all of them are flashing red. The TIE has taken a direct hit on the front, the damage concentrated around the transparisteel of the cockpit, as if the Silencer had collided with something head on. With the front stabilizers damaged, its trajectory is unsteady, but it’s not on autopilot so Ren is at least still in a condition to fly it by himself. 

There was a time when Hux could have stopped him. A time when Ren was nothing more than Snoke’s attack dog and Hux the prodigal son, the engineering genius destined to lead them to victory. Snoke had always been Hux’s favorite trump card, he took great pleasure in invoking his authority every chance he got, just so he could watch Ren defer to it. Just so he could pretend Ren was submitting to him.

But those days are long gone, and the man currently crashing Hux's experimental project into a docking bay is the ruler of the First Order. A maniac who runs off chasing after phantoms and scavengers, in utter disregard of Hux’s suggestions, military tact and any dictate of common sense.

And his own safety.

"Obsidian One, landed and docked," the lieutenant reports and Hux acknowledges her with a nod. He tries not to hurry his steps too obviously as he strides from the bridge. Two guards snap to attention, already turning on their heels to accompany him. Hux waves them away.

There is no need for fanfare. Or an official welcome committee. 

Hux can investigate alone whether Ren is still in one piece. And if he is not, well, then it’s also Hux's burden to figure out what happens next.

Ren weighing on his mind is nothing new.

Hux has become so used to him, to this loathsome creature who showed up uninvited on his star destroyer, haunting Hux’s days and later his nights, slipping into his dreams unnoticed and always untimely. He filled Hux’s subconscious with obscene images: of plush red lips wrapped around his cock and dark brown eyes gazing up at him. Obedient. _Reverent_. 

Other times, there would be large hands sliding all over his body, flipping him onto his stomach, yanking his hips up and spreading him open; warm lips and fingers descending upon him to caress his most intimate places. Every time the dreams became too much to bear, Hux would curl onto his side in his bed with his hand between his legs, fisting his cock with harsh, rapid strokes as he bit down onto his fingers to keep himself from howling in frustration. 

Reality could never live up to the fantasy, he was sure of it, when he first let Ren come to him after Crait. Ren was lost and needy, hungry for attention as always, and Hux saw an opportunity. He welcomed Ren into his chambers with a magnanimous smile, convinced the whole thing would be over in fifteen minutes. He even expected it to be slightly awkward. Ren asking him stiltedly for a blowjob. At most, bending Hux over his desk. Nothing he hasn’t done before.

Instead, Ren took off all his clothes, then ordered Hux to strip too. He kissed and caressed his naked body, each limb and part, every hidden little spot, prepared him with embarrassing precision. Before long, Hux was on all fours in his own bed, ready and willing like a spaceport whore and Ren was shoving his monstrous cock inside him. It hurt, it claimed every part of him, it was terrifying - and better than anything he had ever felt. Ren twisted his arm between his shoulder blades, pushed him down onto the bed and fucked his arse mercilessly as Hux screamed and screamed until he came, just from the swipe of Ren's thumb across the head of his cock, with his regulation briefs still tangled around his knees.

He stopped trying to openly manipulate Ren after that. 

Many cycles have passed since then, and many nights, spent in the Supreme Leader’s bed.

Hux might be a dog on a leash, but he has not yet lost all his fangs. And if the TIE fighter is beyond repair, then Ren had better be prepared to see them. 

When the inner docking bay doors open, Hux finds a group of droids, technicians and guards bustling about. The Silencer is parked in the middle of the hangar, scratches forming a web of unsightly trails all over her hull. The gangway is in place already, but the secured cockpit hatch beyond is still closed. Ren is hiding. 

“Dismissed,” Hux barks at the troopers. They scatter at his voice, falling hastily into formation and marching past him with hurried steps. Hux waits, tapping his foot until the last mouse droid is past the bay door, then hits the control panel with his fist. 

Silence falls over the hangar, poignant, heavy. Hux locks the door with his personal code and makes his way over to the starfighter, the sound of his footsteps reverberating through the stillness.

The hatch opens with a hiss of pressurized air. Up in the cockpit, Ren’s messy head of black hair is just visible from where Hux is standing. 

It’s been four standard days since his last transmission, and Ren still refuses to show his face.

“I hope you didn’t wreck my Silencer,” Hux says hotly, before he catches himself. "Supreme Leader."

“ _Your_ Silencer?” Ren turns around in the pilot’s chair, frowning down on Hux. Smudges of dirt streak his forehead and cheeks and his hair is matted with sweat and soot, the long strands clumped together with something that looks like engine grease. He likely had to fix the TIE by himself so he could get it off the ground. _Fool_. Ren is a good pilot, but a lousy mechanic, and who knows what botched repair job he has inflicted upon the machinery. Hux will have to take the whole thing apart by himself later. 

_And yes, it is mine_ , he thinks, irate. All the upgrades and the engineering work, the custom design that makes the fighter look like a cross between an Interceptor and a Defender, utilizing top-of-the-line Sienar-Jaemus technology, while also paying homage to the classic Imperial style that Ren favors. The Silencer is _his_ , his brainchild, brought into existence with his sweat and tears, just like everything else in this place, all the weapons and troops and systems that Ren has decided to take for himself, because they are merely playthings for his amusement, just like Hux is now.

"If you are so worried about your precious toy," Ren says, gruff, "why don't you see the damage for yourself?" 

He still hasn't made a move to disembark. Hux narrows his eyes at the open hatch. 

The cockpit is small, Hux knows the exact dimensions of it - he had designed it, after all - but two people can still fit in there, albeit barely, and definitely not in a way that leaves any space between them.

Hux hates how his heart starts to beat a little bit faster as he shrugs out of his coat. He folds it gently before placing it on the floor. Feels naked without it, as he always does, and he suppresses the urge to smooth a hand over his hair. It’s neat and in place anyway. 

He takes a step towards the ladder affixed to the gangway, has one foot on the bottom rung already when the sight of his boots gives him pause. It’s going to be uncomfortable, trying to move around in the cockpit with these on his feet. With a sigh, he turns around and sits down on a rung to tug them off.

“Hux,” Ren says from somewhere above him, a strange urgency creeping into his voice. “Are you coming up here or not.”

Hux doesn’t answer. Leaving his boots behind, he silently ascends the ladder and ducks into the cockpit, squeezing himself into the tight space. Ren is staring ahead out the viewport, only stirring when he feels Hux’s hand on his shoulder.

He pushes the hand-yoke controls out of the way to make room for him. Careful not to kick the foot yokes or any other sensitive equipment, Hux straddles Ren’s thighs and settles himself on his lap. With surprising grace, considering how crammed the space is. The top of his head is almost brushing the hull.

From up close, Ren looks _wrecked_.

A layer of fine dust covers his entire chest, his tunic and cowl. He looks like he has just finished rolling around in the dirt, or was slammed by an array of debris at high velocity. His face is pale, the whiteness of his scar standing out sharply against his grime-streaked skin. There are dark circles under his eyes and a black smudge just beneath his bottom lip.

Ren might look like he’s been through a trash compactor, but the feel of his large body against Hux’s is the same as always, warm and solid and now-familiar. So is the sensation of his hands, caressing the length of Hux’s thighs, sliding up his hips and past his waist, before coming to a rest on the center of his back. 

In the next moment, Ren’s hands are fisting into his jacket and he is drawing Hux close, burying his face in his neck.

Hux stares down at the top of his head with slight puzzlement.

Ren’s arms tighten around him, as if he has just realized that Hux is here, close enough to touch. He huffs out a soft breath next to Hux's ear. Hux thinks of Ren being out there on his own, then of him not coming back. It's not something he has considered before. He wonders if Ren has thought about that too. 

He glances over his shoulder, at the spidery cracks running across the transparisteel of the viewport. It's a miracle the TIE was able to take off, let alone survive the journey through hyperspace. There is a deep dent bisecting the hull right above them, the durasteel nearly cut through, as if it had been scraped by a blast of energy. 

Or slashed by a plasma blade. 

“The girl?” he asks softly.

“Still alive.” Ren’s face is pressed into the crook of his neck, voice muffled against the collar of Hux’s uniform jacket. “But it’s only a matter of time.” He turns his head the tiniest bit, nuzzles Hux's skin, sniffing at him with that ridiculous nose of his. “You smell good.”

“And you stink,” Hux replies automatically. It’s a petulant comeback, but he doesn’t want Ren to pick up on the fact that he took the time to shower before heading to the bridge, after Ren had commed the ship to announce his arrival. He will know soon enough anyway.  
And Ren does stink, of sharp sweat and days-old grime, and dirty leather and defeat.

“What of it,” Ren grunts. “You don’t like it?”

He pulls back and undoes Hux’s collar with a flick of his finger. His hand takes hold of Hux’s jaw, tilting his head to one side, and then Ren is licking a hot, wet stripe up his exposed neck, all the way up to the shell of his ear.

Hux closes his eyes and wills himself not to tremble. 

“I think you do like it,” Ren says. His lips are on Hux's sideburn now, tongue darting out for a teasing lick.

There is grime on Ren’s glove and now probably on Hux’s cheek as well, Ren’s fingers leaving dirty smudges on his skin. Ren's breath is hot on the side of his face, and suddenly his other hand is between Hux's legs, grabbing his cock through the fabric of his jodhpurs. Hux is hard, because of course he is. That doesn't mean he is going to admit what Ren’s scent is doing to him. 

He wants to feel disgusted by it, and he does. If he had been the one forced to marinate in his own sweat for days on end, he would have probably scrubbed himself clean with sand, even. But Ren’s musk is magnetizing, heady, and his smell makes Hux’s cock ache. He wants to sniff Ren all over, push his nose into his neck or into his armpit and breathe him in, wants to sink his teeth into his damp skin and mark him like an animal. It’s just instinct, Hux thinks, suddenly feeling dizzy, just an automatic bodily reaction to the person he’s been fucking, but then again, he also thinks he could pick Ren out of a crowd by scent alone. 

He shifts, conscious of how intimately their bodies are pressed together from chest to groin. Ren is breathing softly, studying Hux's face with those velvety-brown eyes. Hux can feel him now, warm, hard against the cleft of his arse. The dusty gaberwool of his tunic is rubbing soot all over Hux's gloves, his pristine uniform jacket.

“I want you to suck my cock,” Ren says and Hux feels his pulse speed up. “But I am aware that space is limited in here. Is there anything you would like to suggest instead?”

Hux swallows. They both know the answer, it’s fairly evident with him already sitting on Ren’s lap. Of course, Ren wants him to say it out loud, wants Hux to debase himself even further and Hux hates him for it. 

“I could—“ He clears his throat.

“Yes?”

“I could... ride you. Supreme Leader.”

Ren grins, toothy, infuriating. “If that is what you want.”

Irritation flares up inside Hux, burning hot, sudden. Trust Ren to ruin this, to turn the tables like he always does, to take his own lechery and depravity and blame it all on Hux. 

As if he's not the one gagging for it. 

Hux knows Ren’s moods by now, and knows the one he's currently in especially well. Ren is vicious when he is frustrated, but it’s also when he desires Hux the most, as if fucking Hux is the only thing that can put him back together when he is falling apart. And Hux is here, always here to pick up the pieces, after every fiasco, after every thwarted plan and crash and burn.

Seething, he places a gloved hand on Ren’s chest and gives it a not-so-gentle push.

“If you would, _sir_ ,” he grits out between clenched teeth. 

Ren releases him and leans back in his seat. For a second Hux thinks he has to do a striptease in the claustrophobic cockpit of a bloody TIE fighter, but then Ren is already tugging on his zipper and Hux unbuttons his jacket hastily as Ren pushes his undershirt up his stomach and his trousers down.

It’s a bit of a struggle to get out of his jodhpurs and Hux has to fold himself over the seat to avoid bumping his head as he kneels up, so Ren can ease his pants over his hips. They manage to free his left leg, then his right, and with a final kick, both the jodhpurs and his underwear are off. Ren chucks them aside, but he might as well have ripped them off considering the state they are in now: rumpled and covered with specks of dirt.

Hux doesn’t bother with his jacket and undershirt. Not that he would have time for it anyway; Ren is already pawing at him, hands drifting over Hux’s hip to caress the curve of his naked arse. Ren likes to touch him there and Hux begrudgingly indulges him, wriggling his hips a little as Ren spreads his gloved fingers across his buttocks and kneads them, pulling Hux tighter against him.

Hux’s bare cock slides against the coarse fabric of Ren’s tunic and he can’t suppress a groan at the sudden, intense friction. He rolls his hips, rubbing himself against the gaberwool, watches his flushed cock drool precome onto Ren’s already cruddy clothing.

Ren is watching too, transfixed by Hux’s pink cock bobbing against his black garments. He touches a gloved finger against the tip, already wet and glistening, and a full-body shiver runs through Hux. His grip on Ren’s shoulders tightens involuntarily as Ren wraps his entire hand around his length, giving it a gentle stroke, and Hux whines at the bite of the dry leather on his skin.

Ren makes a pleased, purring sound, like a big lothcat. His other hand comes up, forefinger tracing Hux’s bottom lip. Hux opens up without thinking, letting Ren slip his index and then his middle finger into the heat of his mouth. The leather tastes vile, like burnt charcoal on his tongue as Ren presses down on it, and Hux almost gags. It's still _pathetic_ , how obediently his lips close around the digits, how readily he draws them deeper into his mouth, his lashes lowering as he begins to suck sloppily. Ren rubs his thumb across the head of his cock and Hux lets out a muffled moan, curling his tongue around and between Ren’s fingers, laving the rough leather, messy, wet. Hux appreciates Ren’s fingers, whether they are fucking his mouth or his hole; they are long and implausibly meaty, especially in those thick gloves. Just two of them are enough to fill his mouth completely, and he drools around them, saliva dripping down his chin and onto his chest.

Ren withdraws, dragging a shiny string of drool from Hux’s mouth. He presses the tips of his slicked, leather-clad fingers to his lips.

“Take it off,” he rasps. 

Holding Ren’s gaze, Hux closes his teeth around the thick leather and tugs on the glove, loosening it around Ren’s fingers one at a time, before starting to pull. Finally the glove comes off with a toss of his head, Hux spits it out and then they are skin to skin, Ren’s hand curling around his jaw, naked thumb swiping across his bottom lip. His dark eyes gaze up at Hux, expectant.

“My inner pocket,” Hux says and Ren presses his lips together in a half-smirk, but doesn’t comment on Hux carrying lube around in his uniform jacket on a daily basis. To be fair, Hux has only started this habit a few standard months ago. He tries not to think about how he will be undoubtedly reminded of it after this, every time he’s in full uniform on the command bridge. 

Ren retrieves the small bottle and leans back in his chair a bit, pouring lube over his naked fingers. Hux watches, somewhat relieved that Ren didn’t try and shove his filthy glove into his arse. He shivers as he imagines how the leather would feel inside him, rasping against his rim. Maybe they can experiment some other time, he thinks, but first he will be getting Ren some disposable gloves from the inventory. 

But for now, there are Ren’s bare fingers, warm and slick, slipping between his cheeks to tap lightly at his hole, and Hux shudders at the touch. He is still damp and soft from his shower and Ren groans when he feels it, low, hungry, in the back of his throat. He rubs tiny circles on Hux’s rim and Hux shivers and squirms, grinds his cock against Ren’s clothes some more, his naked thighs chafing pleasantly against Ren’s leggings.

They are both breathing heavily now, impatience creeping into their movements. Ren’s gloved left hand grips the flesh of Hux’s arse, steadying him on his lap as he presses two fingers inside him. Hux is used to the immense size of his digits, but that first push still takes his breath away. Gasping, he tries to shove back against the intrusion, but Ren doesn’t allow it, holds him firmly in place and fingers him open with practised movements. Relentless and precise, just the way Hux likes it. 

Finally, after long moments, when Hux is close to writhing on his lap, Ren releases him and settles back in his seat. His eyes are shiny, velvet-dark galaxies, pulling Hux in, drowning him in their depths. “Come on, Hux,” he says, blunt as always. “Sit on my cock.”

And there is no reason to pretend anymore that Hux doesn’t want this as much as Ren does. He scrabbles at Ren's tunic until he manages to get it out of the way, just enough to unhook his fly, push the waistband of Ren’s leggings down and free his cock. 

Ren’s abdomen is slick with sweat. His pubes are damp, his large cock jutting out from their dark nest and Hux almost moans out loud at the sight and when Ren’s spicy, musky aroma hits him. He smells filthy, he smells like sex, they both do now, and Hux wants to bury his nose in those coarse curls, rub his face against Ren’s obscene cock, then wrap his bruised mouth around it and suck and suck until he is drowning in Ren’s scent. He imagines Ren grabbing his hair, yanking his head back to come all over his face and lips, coating him with his smell, until Hux is drenched in it. He rakes his fingernails across the rough hairs surrounding Ren’s cock and Ren groans, his belly tensing under the touch.

Hux grabs the bottle and tips it over, letting the lube drizzle over Ren's straining cock. Watches the fat globs slide slowly down the shaft, until they threaten to drool down into Ren's pubes. Only then does he pull off his own gloves, one after the other. Takes his time. Ren cants his hips, impatient, and Hux catches the viscous liquid on his bare fingers, wrapping both hands around Ren's shaft. An expression of wonder spreads across Ren’s features. His eyes drop to Hux’s hands now moving up and down, spreading the lube over his entire massive length. 

When Ren's cock is thoroughly coated, Hux grabs it by the base and moves on top of it, and they both groan when Ren’s crown nudges against his slippery opening. Hux holds his breath during that first, intense moment of the blunt head slipping past his rim, then exhales and lowers himself slowly, impaling himself inch by glorious inch.

Ren’s hands settle on his waist as Hux finally comes to a trembling seat upon him. The burn, the fullness, all of it is so devastatingly perfect that Hux wants to scream. He flexes, drags his sensitive rim up Ren’s cock, then lowers his hips again with a soft whine, shuddering as he feels his hole stretch wide around the thick shaft.

“Very good, General,” Ren says in that annoying, sing-song tone of his. “You serve me so well." 

Hux closes his eyes. Shame and arousal flood his body, make him run hot and cold at the same time. 

"Again," Ren commands. There is a breathy quality to his voice that wasn’t there before. 

Hux shifts, thinks he should squat, maybe, tries to plant his feet on the chair. There isn't enough space between the twin armrest consoles and Ren's thighs. _Damn the size of this man._ Hux lets out an impatient grunt and wiggles around a bit, grabbing Ren's shoulders to push him down in the seat. When Ren slouches lower and spreads his legs wide, Hux pulls his own legs under him and hooks his feet around the insides of Ren’s thighs, so that he is sitting on his haunches, completely on top, with Ren’s hard length lodged firmly inside him. It's still a tight fit, but Hux is flexible and the dumbstruck expression on Ren's face is well worth the pain his muscles will be in later. He allows himself a satisfied little smile as he feels a tremor run through those powerful thighs pressing against his own.

When leans forward to pull up the second time, his newfound leverage allows him to slide his rim all the way up, almost to the tip of Ren’s cock. Hux arches his back, feels himself pulse in tiny spasms around the fat head holding him wide open. Relaxing his muscles, he sinks down in one smooth stroke and Ren lets out a low, animalistic noise.

“Hope that's satisfactory, Supreme Leader," Hux says, breathless, smug. "And yes, you do stink,” he adds, picking up their earlier conversation, now that he has Ren’s full attention. He begins to roll his hips slowly, pulling off and pushing down in a slowly undulating rhythm. “Look at you—- dredging Rebel filth onto my ship. I can smell it on you.”

“Yes.” Ren tips his head back against the seat. “But what does this say about you, Hux? After all, you're the one letting me put my filthy hands on you.” He tilts his hips in a tiny upwards thrust. “My filthy cock in you.”

“Not that you— _ah_ — deserve it.”

Ren pats his arse like he owns it. “Insolent. Now. You’ve promised me a ride, General. Get to it.”

Hux answers with a little backwards shove. He arches his back and circles his hips, adjusting to the feel of the hard length inside him, before begins to move, first with calculated movements, then with an increasing pace as the initial discomfort disappears. He is soon moving with a steady rhythm, white-hot pleasure igniting along his nerves every time he lifts his hips and drops them down again.

Ren's hands slide under his uniform jacket to caress his back. He keeps his thighs spread, but doesn't meet Hux's pushes, only watches with heavy-lidded eyes as Hux works himself on the length of his cock. Hux grips the seat behind his head and begins to grind himself back and forth, clenching his cheeks every time he rolls his hips forward, squeezing down on Ren’s cock. 

"So eager,” Ren pants beneath him. “Was your little hole lonely while I was away?"

"You are disgusting," Hux sneers, his hips moving faster. "You _vile_ , dirty--- oh, _fuck_ \---"

The head of Ren’s cock slides across his prostate at just the right angle and Hux almost loses his rhythm as the shock of pleasure ripples through his body. He keens, chasing the sensation, his spine arching into a stronger curve as he snaps his hips down again and again, wet mouth falling open on a silent cry.

A heavy, leather-gloved hand smacks his arse and Hux cries out sharply. His hole clenches, clutching at Ren's cock. The sting radiates across his skin, all the way down to his balls and his taint, and it feels incredible, so good he almost begs Ren for more, but he doesn’t have to, because Ren slaps his meaty hand down again, so hard that Hux feels his meagre flesh jiggle under its weight. 

“Oh, _stars_ —“ And that’s a whimper, for sure, utterly undignified, but he can’t control himself, and he doesn’t even want to. He likes to hear his own moans during sex and Ren... well, Ren likes to hear them too. Hux vaguely registers that he is being loud, but they are in the private landing bays, and besides, the sound is the least of his concerns. If anyone happened to walk through the hangar doors, they could see him perfectly well through the TIE’s viewport, bouncing on Ren's cock, with the red imprint of the Supreme Leader’s hand on his naked arse.

The friction is not nearly enough; it falls short of the overwhelming intensity of when Ren is on top of him, mounting him or bending him in half and putting his full weight behind his thrusts, engulfing Hux completely. But at least Hux can control the pace here and he savors it: the stretch, the heat, the incessant burn of Ren’s cock deep inside him.

Ren must be sweltering in his layers and Hux himself is completely disheveled now, hair hanging into his face, his damp jacket and undershirt sticking to his back. His thighs are slick with sweat. He can feel perspiration rolling down his spine, dripping from his brow onto Ren's shoulder as he bears down onto him again and again. 

Ren throws his head back against the chair with a moan and in his heightened ecstasy, Hux places his hand around his throat. Squeezes. He can feel the wild flutter of Ren’s pulse under his fingertips as Ren gasps, his mouth falling open and his eyes rolling back in his head.

Hux stares down at his fingers pressing into Ren's neck, and a wave of immense, terrifying desire rises from somewhere deep in his chest. The sight is almost as good as the cock in his arse and Hux groans, rides Ren faster, harder; fucking him with the outpouring of all the accumulated frustration of the last two cycles, when he didn’t even know whether Ren was alive or dead. 

The stench of sex is enveloping them, their own odor and sweat mingling in the humid cockpit. Ren’s scent is everywhere. It's permeating the narrow space, filling Hux’s nostrils. He can feel it rubbing off on his skin, his clothes, he is going to smell like Ren for the rest of the cycle, maybe even the next, and he feels light-headed with the thought of it. 

Ren is huffing underneath him, gazing up at Hux. 

“Kiss me—“ he says abruptly. His voice is hoarse, eyes wide, unguarded. Sweat is beading on his temples and he is shivering slightly, wide chest rising and falling with his labored breaths. “Kiss me, Hux.”

Hux comes back to himself with a shudder. His grip loosens, hand falling onto Ren's chest.

“Is that... an order, Supreme Leader?” he asks, because he cannot bear the thought of it being a genuine request. 

Something unreadable flashes into Ren's gaze, making his eyes darken. “Yes,” he says. He sits up in his seat to pull Hux closer, tongue flicking out to taste Hux’s lips. Expectant. Demanding. Still refusing to initiate the kiss.

Hux slides both arms around Ren’s neck and slants his mouth across his, his fingers tangling in long, matted strands of hair. Ren's hands curl over his buttocks as Hux's frantic movements begin to subside, growing more and more languid, until it’s less him riding and more Ren fucking him onto his cock. He grips the flesh of Hux’s arse tight, pulling his cheeks wide apart as he pumps Hux slowly up and down the length of his shaft. 

Hux moans into his mouth and Ren swallows the sound, tongue curling around Hux’s own. His hips begin to tilt up, gently at first, then with increasing urgency. Hux tries to shove back against the upward thrusts, but his feet are in the way and he is starting to feel the burn in his muscles, now, the tingling sensation spreading through his legs.

"Here." Ren reaches under his thighs and lifts him up - possibly with a little help from the Force - so Hux can shift his legs out from underneath him. Not wanting to be unseated, Hux steadies himself on Ren's shoulder as he carefully stretches out his legs, one after the other, and then he is sinking down, until he is fully seated on Ren’s cock, with his calves dangling over the armrests on either side. The sensation is incredible. He can feel the little hairs on Ren's balls against his split-open arse. Every little throb of Ren's cock, deep, so deep inside of him. 

When he begins to move, the pleasure is immediate. Every little roll of his hips results in a breathtakingly precise slide of Ren’s cock against his prostate and Hux relishes it, sinking down again and again, panting with bliss. Ren smoothes his hands along his slick thighs, caresses the jut of his hipbones, his waist. Hux braces his hands on the armrests and leans back slightly, the line of his chest and stomach on display, hard cock curving upward between his spread thighs, bouncing between his legs as he writhes on Ren's cock, stroking himself up and down.

“Enough,” Ren grits out. “Let me.”

Hux leans forward, grips Ren’s shoulder as Ren sinks into his seat, spreading his thighs. Hux gasps at the sudden shift of his cock inside him, fingers digging into the dirty gaberwool of Ren’s tunic, then his vision goes white as Ren grabs his hips with both hands and drives his cock into him to the hilt. Hux throws his head back and shouts, loud, wanton, the sound reverberating in the empty hangar. Ren moans and drills him harder, fucking the entire length of his cock in and out of him and it occurs to Hux with a dizzying feeling that he’s not going to stop—

Ren lets go of his hips to tug his remaining glove off with his teeth, tossing it aside, and wraps his warm hand around Hux's cock. Hux is so used to being teased, being played with that he is almost shocked at the way Ren strokes him now, with long, pulling strokes, with urgency and intent, as if he needs Hux to feel good, to come. 

Ren curls a hand around the back of his neck and pulls Hux’s head down to him, their mixing breath hot between them.

"I'm going to fucking come inside you," Ren growls, snapping his hips, his hand moving faster. “You will walk back to your quarters with my come still dripping from you, Hux, everyone you pass will smell me on you… say you were waiting for me, needing this—needing _me_ — say it—"

Ren slams into him from below, ramming into his prostate, and Hux’s orgasm hits him like a blaster shot, his body tightening as Ren curls his giant thumb across the head of his cock, twisting his wrist. He keeps thrusting with abandon into the slick grip around him, as he rides his orgasm on Ren's pulsing cock, little hitching sounds bubbling up in his throat, his lips barely forming the words: _yes, yes, yes_. 

Underneath him, Ren comes with an almost feral growl, head thrown back and his back arching off the seat, his hips jerking as he continues to fuck into Hux, filling him up with hot spurts of come.

Hux sags against him with a last, trembling whine. Ren is panting underneath him, the muscles of his abdomen still rippling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Hux feels like a newborn krugga deer. He couldn’t stand, even if he had to. His legs are shaking.

Ren, though, apparently has no intention of letting him stand, he gathers Hux close, pulls him against his broad chest and wraps his arms around Hux’s clammy, shivering back. 

After long moments, he feels Ren soften inside him, and Hux raises his hips weakly, lets Ren slip from him. Ren’s sloppy come slides out of him, dripping down his sweat-slicked thighs and onto Ren’s ruined leggings. He is just as much of a mess as Ren is now, stinking of perspiration and come. Presses his forehead against Ren’s shoulder, huffing out deep, shaky breaths.

“So, General,” Ren says. “What is your assessment?” Cocky as always. As if Hux would be less angry about the damage inflicted upon his machine after a hard fuck and a mindblowing orgasm.

“Nothing we can’t fix,” he concedes, because well, it is considerably harder to argue right after a mindblowing orgasm, especially when Ren is placing soft kisses on his jaw and ear. “But you will have to promise to stop trying to run people over with your starfighter, Supreme Leader. That’s not what I designed it for.”


End file.
